


Late Night Feelings

by the_butler



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Capes (DCU), Angst, Awkward Dates, Breakups, Eventual Fluff, Ex-Boyfriends, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_butler/pseuds/the_butler
Summary: It was a little past one in the morning, the phone the only light in his room. He glared at it, then threw it to his side on the bed, not caring to see where it landed. A few seconds after, he patted all along the side to find it and looked at it again. He pulled up the messaging app, scrolled down, and then sighed. He exited the app and threw the phone on the bed again. He repeated this several times until some minutes later the phone chimed and he hurriedly sat up and felt for it on his bed. He opened the messaging app again and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he read the reply he’d been waiting for the whole night.“Be there in 30 mins.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Batman Day came and went and I didn’t get to do anything for it so here’s a short fic about Bruce and Clark. Made some quick art to go along with this over at my [Tumblr](https://the-butler-fanstuff.tumblr.com/post/187942471516/a-doodle-for-my-fic-late-night-feelings-batman) Please give it a gander if you like! 
> 
> Was listening to Mark Ronson’s album Late Night Feelings on repeat while writing this, hence the title.
> 
> Comments and kudos very much appreciated. If you have a prompt you want me to explore, just leave it in a comment!

It was a little past one in the morning, the phone the only light in his room. He glared at it, then threw it to his side on the bed, not caring to see where it landed. A few seconds after, he patted all along the side to find it and looked at it again. He pulled up the messaging app, scrolled down, and then sighed. He exited the app and threw the phone on the bed again. He repeated this several times until some minutes later the phone chimed and he hurriedly sat up and felt for it on his bed. He opened the messaging app again and finally breathed a sigh of relief when he read the reply he’d been waiting for the whole night.

“Be there in 30 mins.”

Bruce cursed, and then flopped back onto the bed. Thirty fuckin’ minutes more of waiting. He’d already been waiting the whole night, and before that the whole day. Well, to be more accurate, it took him the whole day to make up his mind about texting him to come over, and then it took him the whole night to wait for the right hour to text for what could not be misconstrued as anything but a late night booty call. Bruce had to make sure. After all, Clark was his ex. He’d rather not have the other man thinking it was anything else but a late night booty call. The fact that he’d been thinking about it the whole day and purposefully delayed texting until the “proper” late night window of time didn’t matter. It’s not like anyone would hold him accountable to it or anything. He lived alone in the palatial four bedroom apartment his guardian Alfred insisted on renting for him in the university district of Metropolis, there were no witnesses to how much he paced around while he made up his mind. Now he was in the middle of his king sized bed trying not to go ahead and just jerk off instead of waiting for Clark to get his slow ass over to Bruce’s place. 

Clark. A conundrum if there ever was one, Bruce thought. Grew up somewhere were farms apparently existed, and boy howdy did he ever grew up- all of six foot two and every inch of solid muscle, from hauling bales of hay all day probably. Played football all his life, but surprisingly got into Metropolis University on an academic scholarship. Double major in Journalism and Political Science even, the apparently secret nerd. Well, not really secret. Passionate, even. Always went on and on about social justice and equity and all that. Bruce found it cute.

“Once upon a time.” He added aloud, to no one. He frowned. 

Well, anyway. They’re just a few months shy of graduating and being done with university, hopefully forever in his case, Clark with his double major and Bruce with a lazily decided upon Business major (because of course, he was some trust fund kid about to inherit one of the largest multinational corporations in the world). And they had broken up before their fourth year even started, from Bruce’s end. It just seemed like the right, well no, the appropriate thing to do. Did he mention he was about to inherit one of the largest multinational corporations in the world? And Clark was about to... whatever it was that football playing, journalist, farm boys went on to do in life. It may have seemed callous, but Clark took it in stride, to Bruce’s kind of disappointment, and had even been friendly, understanding. He said he knew their relationship was a kind of hail mary pass, whatever that meant, what with him being him and Bruce being, well, the Bruce Wayne of Gotham. And then Clark gave him a sad but kind smile, and Bruce’s heart went to pieces. 

It wasn’t even a month after the breakup when Bruce started texting Clark again. Harmless little things, like, “you forgot a sweater”. Clark would always come by to pick whatever it was that he had forgotten (something Bruce had actually kept hidden while Clark was in the process of boxing all his stuff in Bruce’s apartment), would always be apologetic, and nice, and seeming to be genuinely okay. Then the messages became “saw a book you liked” with a photo attached, or “reminded me of that story you told me about when you were a kid” with a picture of a cute white dog wearing a red cape, and then... and then eventually it was a cold, dark, lonely night, and the phone was just there, with the messaging app open, the cursor blinking in the input field, and Bruce gave in. 

“Do you want to come over?”

And Clark, well, he always replied. Not right away, but always replied in the affirmative. Never once turned him down. Not even during what Bruce knew was Clark’s hell week(s). Clark never turned him down, not once. But that’s not to say Clark came over running. It was always “Be there in 30 mins.” Sometimes it even took as long as an hour and a half. This is with the knowledge that the university dorms was a lazy 15 minute walk away. The worst was the two hours Bruce waited on Clark, all prepped, ass wet with lube and cock already leaking with impatience and remembrance of past trysts. Or was it the best? Bruce huffed. Maybe a little bit of both. He remembered that night to be the night he’d come so hard he blacked out. When he came to, Clark was already washing up and getting ready to leave. 

The buzzer sounded and cut his reminiscing short. 

His annoyance came back, but he was already half hard with the memory of past nights, and so he walked barefoot to the door and opened it to find Clark there, with his hands in stuffed in his jeans and his plaid button up half-tucked in and wearing a sort of wry smile. 

“Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Shut up.”

Bruce answered as he grabbed at the plaid shirt and pulled Clark in for a fierce kiss. 

Soon he found himself on all fours on his sumptuous king sized bed, panting, Clark eating him out even if he’d already said he prepped beforehand. Soon fingers replaced tongue, thick and scissoring and ever so slightly brushing at his spot and Bruce couldn’t stifle the moan. Soon Clark’s fingers slid out, which made Bruce whine, only to be replaced by the tip of a thick, fat cock. Clark’s hands slid up and down Bruce’s sides, which made him shiver, before they settled on his hips and Bruce felt Clark push in, slowly, inch by inch, until Clark bottomed out and was balls deep in Bruce. 

Bruce let out a shaky breath, and he felt Clark bend over him and kiss him on the shoulder before he started to pump in and out slowly. It was deliciously excruciating, the slow pace, but by now Clark knew how to drive Bruce wild. He would keep at the same pace until Bruce broke down and started begging. And oh, how lovely it was when Bruce begged. The filth and endearments that slipped from his reddened, kiss-abused lips- it made Clark get harder. And so with one hand on Bruce’s hips and another at the back of his neck, pushing him down the bed and stopping his hips from bucking, Clark started to fuck him hard and fast, at a punishing pace Clark knew Bruce could handle and definitely wanted. When the whimpers turned to loud cries, Clark pulled Bruce upright and held him by the chest, flush together, still fucking him at the same brutal pace. He knew by how tight Bruce got, and how lost to the feeling Bruce would be, just when to put a hand to Bruce’s leaking cock and pumping just as fast and hard as he fucked his ass. It didn’t take long for Bruce to come all over his hand and on the bed, and he collapsed back onto Clark, who held him fast and buried his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck as he chased his own orgasm. It’s when Bruce turned his head and sought a kiss that Clark felt the buildup, and then he was coming deep inside Bruce as they shared a filthy kiss. 

His phone read 4:45. They’d had another round before collapsing back on the bed and Clark took a ten minute nap. In between fucking, they kept the talk to a minimum. Used to be Clark would initiate the conversations, but this time around he kept to himself. It disturbed Bruce somewhat, but he didn’t let it show. The mostly just looked at each other. There was something there, Bruce thought, but before he could say anything Clark was already kissing him, and then it was already 4:45, and Clark was getting up from the bed. 

“So.”

Clark said, right before he opened the door to leave, his back to Bruce who stood there barefoot in dark gray sweats and nothing else, waiting for him to leave. 

“So.” Clark repeated. 

“What?” Bruce asked, impatient, and held back a yawn. 

“Er... next time.” And then Clark turned around, his face a little red, looking down on the floor, ever honest. Bruce regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

“What makes you think there’s a next time?” He deadpanned, hoping Clark wouldn’t detect the panic he felt inside. 

“Oh, well, the numerous times there’d been a next time made me think that way, I guess.” Clark answered honestly, without snark. It made Bruce bristle. But before he could retort, Clark went on. “I was going to say, um, this is the last time I’ll answer, Bruce.”

Bruce wasn’t aware that he’d stopped breathing until he did. He felt the cold numbness start to grow from the tips of his fingers to his chest. 

“So, this is it for this... whatever this is.” Clark smiled at him, kind and apologetic, and Bruce felt his heart go to pieces for the second time. “I’m...”

“Don’t say it.” Bruce cut in, voice cold. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Clark looked surprised, but nodded. “Okay.” He hesitated, looked as if he was about to reach out to Bruce, but then ultimately decided to turn and open the door. Before he stepped over the threshold, he turned back again. “Just to let you know. I’m moving on. I’ve got a date lined up and all that. I want you to hear it from me instead of finding it out from somewhere I guess. Well.” Clark smiled again, his kind smile. “I wish you the best, Bruce. I loved you and I’m... well. I wish it didn’t turn out this way but.” He shrugged, the gesture speaking volumes more than he can say. And then he turned around for the last time, stepped out, and closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door closing filled Bruce with a finality, and he closed his eyes and hugged his arms around himself. It was for the best, he reminded himself. He’d repeat it again, as he laid on his bed awake. It’s for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their reunion happened like this- he was a famous Gotham City playboy, CEO, billionaire, philanthropist visiting Metropolis, and the other was a young but seasoned reporter for The Daily Planet, Metropolis’ premier newspaper. The reporter also happened to be Clark Kent, his ex-boyfriend from college, the only one who had ever walked away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, a continuation. Thank you so much for the kind comments you guys. Reading them really had a positive effect on me and my writing! Thank you again for reading.

Their reunion happened like this- he was a famous Gotham City playboy, CEO, billionaire, philanthropist visiting Metropolis, and the other was a young but seasoned reporter for The Daily Planet, Metropolis’ premier newspaper. The reporter also happened to be Clark Kent, his ex-boyfriend from college, the only one who had ever walked away from him. Him- mr. Bruce “famous Gotham City playboy, CEO, billionaire philanthropist” Wayne. He stared at the list of reporters interviewing him, zeroing in on the one name, and made sure no emotion escaped his face as he handed it back to the nervous intern. 

“All right, bring the first one in.”

He smoothed down his hair which he knew was already styled to perfection, and sat back and crossed his leg in a look of natural poise. The interview was conducted in a large room of a sumptuous suite in one Bruce’s many hotels, this one in downtown Metropolis and recently built, and the parade of reporters were mostly looking to write a fluff piece about Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, who was largely written off as a sort of handsome facade for a multinational company with its fingers in every pie. Bruce hardly had to engage beyond the surface level, giving them the charm offensive, and many left without having questioned or changed their already formed opinion of the young, handsome billionaire in the designer suit and disarming smile. 

Then it was the third from the last in the list, and the intern poked their head and announced, without knowing what it did to Bruce, “A mr. Clark Kent from the Daily Planet is next, sir.”

Bruce just gave a curt nod, and then adjusted his seat to look the most disaffected. The door opened, and Bruce made sure to be looking at his phone to seem like he had just checked on something more important. When he looked up, it was like being punched in the gut. Clark looked the same but was more polished, he’d kept up with going to the gym obviously and though the suit was not new it fit him well. He still kept the thick glasses, though, which made him feel more accessible despite being handsome, with his bright blue eyes, slight curls and dimples. But Bruce knew how to mask it, didn’t he, after all he regularly mixed with a crowd where the facade meant more than what was underneath. He immediately plastered on his most charming smile, the one reserved for actresses, models, and heiresses. If it affected Clark, it didn’t show. He came into the room and walked towards Bruce, hand held out and a polite smile on his face.

“He...”

“Clark! My, how long has it been? I can barely remember.” Bruce cut in. This was a lie- he knew how long it had been- exactly ten years. He grabbed Clark’s proffered hand in a strong grip and pulled him into a half-hug, an over-familiar and casual move he’d adopted to suit his playboy persona. Only this time, it afforded him a bit of casual intimacy with a man who never left his mind since that night so many years ago. He liked to think that he didn’t linger a bit, to smell the scent of some faint cologne. “You look fine, still doing what was it, football?” He knew the answer of course but pretended to only be mildly interested, as if completing a social obligation between people who once were intimate with each other years ago- the slightly awkward small talk. Before Clark could reply, he’d already moved away and got back to his chair where he deposited himself with as much élan as he can muster. “So, here to do some interview or what?” He continued, never giving the other the time or space to reply, desperate to take charge of the flow of conversation. 

“Yes, something like that.” Clark answered mildly when he was finally allowed to get a word in, a kind smile on his face, as always, and headed towards his own chair facing Bruce, a small coffee table in between them. He took out his phone and went through the process of explaining he’d be recording, and Bruce waved his hand to say that he’d been through the process for seven times already this morning, and Clark nodded but still went on with his spiel. Ah, the journalistic integrity, Bruce thought, which both irritated and amused him. Clark’s passion was one of the reasons that attracted him to the man in the first place. But better to not think about that, perhaps. Bruce watched Clark with mild amusement on his face, pretending to not soak in every little detail that he could, as Clark got ready to do the interview. Eventually, Clark hit the record button on the phone app, and started with the questions. 

To say that Bruce was not ready for the line of questioning Clark chose was an understatement. For once, he didn’t have to pretend to be the slightly out of depth young heir, as he had to work harder than he could remember to answer Clark’s in depth questions about Wayne Corp. and all its subsidiaries and how it affects the global and local economy, society, environment, the works. What it would mean for Metropolis for Wayne Corp. to open up a tie-in business with none other than Lex Luthor, of Lex Corp. 

“Are you aware of Lex Luthor’s political ambitions and how he is positioning this tie-in as a gambit for the next local elections?”

“Ah, well, that is hardly something for me to discuss don’t you think? Lex’s political ambitions are his own.”

“And yet you and your massive corporation have pledged time and again to social and environmental causes that Luthor has positioned himself against. Are you not, shall we say, at the very least, at cross purposes with each other? Or does Wayne Corp only truly care about the bottom line, unlike what your PR department has oft stated?”

With eyebrows raised, all Bruce could do was shrug. “I don’t get where the animosity is coming from.”

“I am merely passionate. About my job and my city. It seemed such a massive blunder on Wayne Corp.’s part to partner up with the likes of Lex Luthor. He has done nothing but harm to Metropolis- from his employment practices, his company’s environmental impact, to the man’s politics as well.” 

“Now, Mr. Kent, do tell us how you really feel about Mr. Luthor.” Bruce finally managed to gain a footing in the conversation, joking about Clark’s clear disdain for Luthor. Clark seemed to remember himself, and visibly relaxed and sat back.

“Off the record?”

“It’s your interview.”

“He’s a slippery son of a bitch. It’s a mistake for Wayne Corp. to be tied up with him, even if only in name.”

“Wow, you really don’t hold back do you?”

“Well,” Clark shrugged. “You asked. And it’s off the record. I feel like I derailed our interview. My apologies. Let me get back on record for my last two questions.”

“I feel like you have asked me all that you can, but go ahead please.”

“With regards to your adoption of the orphan Richard Grayson some three years ago.”

Bruce visibly bristled, his amiable mask falling. None of the other reporters even dared touch the subject of Bruce’s adoption of the young child, it had been clearly emphasized in his interview rider. Clark clearly noted the change in Bruce, and held up a conciliatory hand. 

“I only mean to ask if taking in the young orphan influenced you in your personal project of opening the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation and Orphanage two years ago.” 

The question took Bruce aback- hardly any of the reporters cared about the foundation and the orphanage outside of the yearly gala he held to raise funds for them. And certainly none of them ever asked a question about his ward in connection to his philanthropic efforts- most were tabloid fodder, raising questions about his ability, age and lifestyle to foster a child. It took him aback enough to make him answer honestly.

“Well, yes and no- the foundation had been in the works for some time even before young Richard came into my life. The adoption had some influence in the opening of the orphanage, yes. However people tend to forget that I myself was orphaned at a young age. Helping other orphans, ones that do not have a fortune to fall back on such as myself, had always been on my mind. The details only needed to be ironed out. But yes, all in all, taking in Richard Grayson is a positive influence in my philanthropy and I guess my life.”

Bruce had answered the question absorbed, and finishing his last sentence brought him back to see Clark smiling at him warmly, as if he knew some secret about Bruce’s soul. A shiver ran down Bruce’s spine and he hid it with a cough and a seat adjustment. He re-crossed his legs and gestured a hand to Clark.

“And is that your last question?”

“I was going to ask about how your ward influenced you beyond the foundation and the orphanage, but I think you’ve already answered that question.” Clark brightly responded. “Thank you for the time, Mr. Wayne. And for your honest answers.”

“May I ask a question, Mr. Kent? Off the record of course?”

“Hm? Yes?” Clark answered, a little puzzled look on his face as he stopped pressing buttons and closing apps on his phone. Bruce briefly closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“Are you free tonight?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know how he got through the day, but here he was, sitting opposite whom he liked to call ‘the one who walked away’, in the restaurant of his other Metropolis hotel, definitely one of the more upscale restaurants there was in the city. He vaguely remembered a few more fluff interviews, lunch, several conference calls and then... trying on three different suits before settling on one that showed off his assets best, so to speak. So, here he was now, sitting before a Clark Kent who didn’t bother to change suits from work, looking a little underdressed but definitely unbothered by it. It would have annoyed Bruce, this confidence that Clark had, if he wasn’t currently sweating bullets and trying to look the most unaffected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I want to have some Chinese food haha. Thanks again for the kudos and the comments!
> 
> Edit: belatedly I kinda figured this seems to be following beats of the amazing “Always Be My Maybe”??? But maybe its just the Chinese food after a fancy restaurant scene. Oh well it’s a great movie to be influenced by anyway.

He didn’t know how he got through the day, but here he was, sitting opposite whom he liked to call ‘the one who walked away’, in the restaurant of his other Metropolis hotel, definitely one of the more upscale restaurants there was in the city. He vaguely remembered a few more fluff interviews, lunch, several conference calls and then... trying on three different suits before settling on one that showed off his assets best, so to speak. So, here he was now, sitting before a Clark Kent who didn’t bother to change suits from work, looking a little underdressed but definitely unbothered by it. It would have annoyed Bruce, this confidence that Clark had, if he wasn’t currently sweating bullets and trying to look the most unaffected. They were also currently having the tiniest slice of some fancy duck recipe. He was assured it was the best entree the restaurant had to offer. Clark was about to finish it off in three bites, only by cutting the portions small enough to stretch it into three bites. 

“I was assured this is the best...” Bruce started, more than a little embarrassed for having ordered something that would leave his date hungry.

“Oh it tastes amazing.” Clark said after a bite. “Just the portions could be more generous. But this is how it is with fancy restaurants, I assume?” He smiled to show it was a joke. 

“Yes, well.” Bruce said, only so he could say something. He had ordered ahead for them, and now was truly regretting the decision. Why was he so desperate to impress Clark? It’s been more than ten years. So much has happened in his life- he was even a father now. “Would you like to order something else? I’m sure there must be something else you’d like from their menu.” He glanced up to signal to a waiter, but Clark moved to catch his eye and shook his head.

“Tell you what. How about I take you somewhere else for dessert?”

“I’ve already ordered us their famous blueberry lemon trifle.”

“And I’m sure it’s going to be the size of a quarter. Come on, it’s been ten years since you’ve been back, let me take you somewhere else that isn’t this fancy. I’m sure you’ve had your fill of fancy.”

Clark smiled at him just so, with his dimples out and his eyes friendly, that Bruce could hardly say no. He nodded, and then signaled to the waiter that they were done. After the cheque, he somehow persuaded Clark to let them be chauffeured to wherever it was Clark was taking them, on the argument of expediency. He watched Clark give directions to the driver, who was a little dubious, and rightfully so when they arrived to their destination and Bruce saw it was a hole in the wall Chinese takeaway along the University area. He was hesitant to step out, until Clark nudged him in the elbow.

“We used to go here all the time, remember?”

And so that jogged his memory somewhat. Lucky Food Chinese Takeaway had been one of Clark’s many cheap but filling food options back in their university days, when money was tight and he absolutely refused to have Bruce foot the bill all the time. 

“I thought you were taking me somewhere else for dessert?”

“Well, yeah, there’s the gelato place next door. But first, I got to have some dinner.”

“I was assured...” Bruce started again, coloring a bit.

“Yes yes you were assured now move your ass, I’m hungry!” Clark cut him off cheerfully, nudging him again to exit the car. 

In front the restaurant, Bruce felt a wave of nostalgia as he smelled the familiar smell of incense and fragrant Chinese food, and he stood at the door for a moment before Clark jostled him into stepping inside. Here, Bruce was the one clearly overdressed in his designer suit and custom made leather shoes. At the chime of the bell on the door some of the patrons, college students all of them, turned their heads and then openly gawked at one of America’s most eligible bachelors. By the time they got to a table, with Clark cheerfully waving at a familiar staff, the surrounding susurrus of voices were getting more excited and phones were already out texting, calling and taking what they thought were surreptitious photos and videos. 

“I remember you particularly liked their siu mai, the shrimp and pork one, right?”

“We’ve already had dinner.”

Clark just cocked an eyebrow at Bruce, leveling him a look over the plastic menus. It made Bruce crack a tiny smile. “Yeah and I’m still hungry. How about you?”

“Starving.” Bruce admitted, and it made Clark laugh. “Do they still have the salt and pepper prawns as well?”

“Of course. Let me order for us,” Clark said with wink as he raised a hand and a waiter promptly appeared by their table. “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

Bruce couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed at a dinner date, even with the gawking students around them. One or two even tried to get a picture but the waitstaff shooed them away while Clark kindly explained they were trying to have some dinner in peace. Clearly the waitstaff still knew Clark.

“You and the waiters seem to be on the same page.”

“Yeah you’re not the first famous person I’ve taken here. I often use this as an interview gambit, good food in a low-key atmosphere tend to help them loosen up enough to actually get a good interview out of them.”

“I suppose I should be offended.” Bruce deadpanned, and Clark laughed again, his sweet, friendly laugh that reminded Bruce of better days. “And here I thought I was the only famous person you’ve taken here.”

“Well, you’re the first at least.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Well, you know what they say, you never forget your first.” Clark laughingly said, as he polished off his seafood fried rice with their third order of siu mai. 

It’s a joke, Bruce reminded himself. It’s only a joke. He leveled his breathing and smiled back. “I guess it is flattering then.” Clark looked up at beamed at him, and Bruce had to remind himself once more.

They got gelato, after Clark paid for their dinner, as promised, and Bruce felt that small, giddy feeling he got whenever Clark remembered something he liked, from all those years ago. Without asking for it, he was handed a cup of stracciatella gelato, two scoops, like he always had before. There were quite a few people now, just standing around looking at them, and Clark whispered that maybe it was time to go. Bruce nodded and texted the driver, who arrived just a few minutes after. In the privacy of the car, Bruce felt bolder. 

“Do you treat all your interviewees like that or am I just special?”

“Hm? I dunno what you’re talking about Bruce, you’re the one who asked me out.” Clark replied with a smirk, and then ate some of his rainbow gelato. He always got a different flavor every time they went to the store, Bruce remembered. 

“Oh, of course. But the way it turned out...”

“Yes, it seems like I’m the one who took you out in the end.”

“The pictures those students took will be on some tabloid by tomorrow.”

“Oh it’s probably trending on social media by now. Bruce what century are you living in?”

“And you don’t care?”

“Not really. Should I be worried?”

“It’s just that... well. News about me and dinner dates tend to lead to a lot of wild speculation.”

“I don’t really care.”

Bruce leaned back, the cup of gelato starting to melt in his hand. Quietly, he asked, “Do you really mean that?”

Clark, spoon still in his mouth, cocked his head to one side and quirked his brows in question. 

“Do you really not care. At all. Anymore?”

Taking out the spoon with exaggerated care, Clark slowly replied. “I... I guess not really. Why?”

“I see.” Bruce rolled down the partition and addressed the driver. “Drop me off at the hotel please and then you can drop off Mr. Kent at his place, at his leisure.”

The driver nodded and took a left turn, heading downtown. 

“I feel like I said something wrong?” Clark said, brows still knitted in confusion. 

Bruce closed his eyes briefly and steeled himself. He put on his most bored, casual face and turned to Clark. “I don’t know what you mean? I have to head back to Gotham by tomorrow. And it is already close to ten in the evening. I have to call my ward to bid him good night, you know how it is.”

“Of course.”

And they sat in silence, the one confused at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, the other resolute, their gelatos slowly melting in their hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took out his phone from his pocket for the fifth time this night, opened the messaging app and re-read the number his PA sent him after he asked for it. Clark’s number. He cursed at it and angrily tossed the phone on the couch behind him. What did he expect? Clark wasn’t like him. Clark was... normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short? And full of emotional whiplash haha. Anyway, thank you for the kudos and the comments. I think I have another chapter more for this and that would be it. Thanks again for reading!

He picked up the tumbler of fine whiskey and took a sip as he stared out of the spectacular midnight view of Metropolis from his penthouse suite. He had been drinking ever since ending the call to his ward hours ago. Richard was still up, a little after his bedtime, and had talked a mile a minute about his day. Bruce missed him terribly. The little bundle of energy had brought so much more to his life than he initially thought. At first, it was an impulse, his knee jerk reaction to a tragedy that unfolded before him, but it took little more than a day to turn the initial impulse into an urge to take in this boy into his life, to protect and nurture him. It had been a nightmare- the adoption process, the media circus that unfolded, but it was all worth it. Just hearing Richard yawn and mumble “g’night” made it all worth it. But that was hours ago, and whatever good feeling it gave him already dissolved by the second tumbler of whiskey downed. Now something else occupied his mind.

He took out his phone from his pocket for the fifth time this night, opened the messaging app and re-read the number his PA sent him after he asked for it. Clark’s number. He cursed at it and angrily tossed the phone on the couch behind him. What did he expect? Clark wasn’t like him. Clark was... normal. Clark had always been even-keeled, had always been the master of his emotions. Clark knew when to walk away from a bad relationship. Clark knew his worth. Clark didn’t need Bruce and his messy romantic entanglements, the tabloids, the long distance. But Clark was still as fucking handsome as he had been all those years ago, probably even more, aged like fine wine, and gods Bruce wanted to put his hands to the man. To hurt, to pleasure, he didn’t know anymore. He just wanted to touch Clark so bad his teeth ached. 

But Clark didn’t care anymore. That was what the man said. And Bruce had been a fool, wasn’t he, to hold on to a college relationship he himself ended, for all these years passed. He downed the rest of the whiskey and let the bitterness from his mouth distract him from the bitterness of his emotions, let the fire down his throat make him forget about the torch he carried for so long. He let the tumbler fall down on the carpeted floor, not caring to see if it broke or not, assured by his wealth to never care for such things, and walked around to the couch to find his phone. 

So Clark didn’t care anymore. But he still did. And he still had a few hours to stay in Metropolis before going back to the safety of Gotham. He pulled up the message with the number again, and after a moment’s hesitation pressed on it. He listened to four rings before someone answered on the other end.

“Uh... whu... hello?” Came the bleary sound of Clark’s voice. Bruce let go of the breath he’d been holding unconsciously.

“It’s me.”

“Er... Bruce?”

“Text me your address.”

“Are you okay? Is there something...”

“Just do it, Kent.” Bruce snarled, impatient and a little drunk. From the drink or from emotions, he’d rather not know.

“Oh. Okay. Give me a moment...”

Bruce hung up. A few moments later he got a message from Clark- the promised address. Bruce smiled in the dark, the illumination from the phone giving it a sinister edge. He stalked over to the room phone and rang the concierge for a car. Not caring for how he looked, he just put on the earlier discarded shoes and went out the door.

***

By the time he got to Clark’s door, a third floor walk up apartment in a modest neighborhood, his mood had tempered and the Bruce that left the penthouse was markedly different from the Bruce hesitating to knock on Clark’s apartment door. He was still determined to see Clark, but his goals had shifted somewhat. If he had more time in the car to reflect he would have probably laughed bitterly at the realization that this may be what people would call maturity.

Eventually, he raised a hand to knock, and gave three soft raps on the door, mindful of the neighbors. When no one was forthcoming, he took out his phone and called Clark again. After three rings, a sleepy sounding Clark answered.

“I’m outside your door.”

“Oh... ugh sorry I fell asleep again. Give me a minute...”

“Wait. Before you open the door. I need to say something.”

“Er, isn’t that the reason you came over?” Bruce heard shifting, Clark was probably getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. But before you open the door, I want you to know something.”

“Um. Okay?”

A beat. Bruce closed his eyes and let out a breath.

“I’m sorry.”

There was no reply from Clark. Bruce soldiered on.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I... that was on me. I expected too much from what you thought was just a friendly dinner out with an ex.”

Another beat, and then Clark spoke softly. “Okay. It’s okay Bruce. Thank you for the apology.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“For what?”

“For ending it. All those years ago. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong.”

“Oh, Bruce.”

“If you open this door, then... then I’ll probably start hoping again. If you don’t want to do anything with me ever again, tell me to go. Don’t open this door. I... Clark I can’t... I can’t anymore. Anyway, it’s your call. I’m... shit I’m hanging up now.”

And he ended the call before his emotions overcame him. He cursed softly as he pocketed the phone and held a hand to his face. What the fuck was he doing here, what the hell was he doing to his life, what in the world did he expect from Clark? He stood there for an eternity and a day. And then, hope sprang with the sound of a door unlocking. 

“Bruce?”

And there was Clark, silhouetted by the light behind him, half opening the door. And Bruce looked up and relief poured inside him so fast and strong that he couldn’t have stopped himself from lunging at the man even if he tried.

Soon as Bruce crossed the threshold he was all over Clark, holding on as if for dear life, his lips poured a torrent of kisses all over Clark’s face. But soon strong hands reached for his wrists and pried his hands away, and Clark pulled away from Bruce’s embrace. Confused, Bruce opened his eyes to see a gentle smile on Clark’s face. Slowly, the hope inside him ebbed away. Bruce pulled at Clark’s grip, and it gave away. Bruce moved back, and hugged himself.

“I’m wrong again, aren’t I?”

“Bruce.” Clark said his name so tenderly, it twisted at his insides. He felt his face grow hotter, his disappointment and embarrassment giving way to anger. 

“Why?” He spat bitterly. “Why even open the door? Because you’re so nice? Is that it?” The venom dripped from his words. 

Clark shook his head and sighed, looked down on the floor as he put hands to his hips, exasperated and sleep deprived. “Bruce, please.” He still managed to say in an even tone. It only made Bruce’s anger worsen. 

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Why won’t you let me...”

“Don’t you know how hard it was for me to come here, to say those words? Don’t you know how hard it was for me back then?” Bruce said, his voice rising at the same time as his emotions. 

“Goddamnit!” Clark cursed, and it took Bruce aback, having known the other man to almost never lose his temper. Clark caught himself, and then took a deep breath while looking at anywhere but Bruce, his hands never leaving his hips. Then he laughed bitterly to himself, and ran a hand through his hair, desperate. Bruce watched in fascination. 

“Jesus, Bruce, don’t you ever do anything in moderation? Why is it always extremes with you? Is it the billionaire lifestyle?” Clark scoffed, but only just so, with a pained look on his face. “I opened the door because I just want us to talk. Like normal people do. Please? Why can’t that be us, Bruce?”

“I...” Bruce looked on to Clark helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Clark huffed, and then smiled. “Well, why don’t you come on in and we’ll find out why?” And he gestured towards the rest of his apartment. Bruce nodded hesitantly, but still walked in further into the apartment as Clark went to close the door with a sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So. What is this all about.”
> 
> “I... I already told you over the phone...”
> 
> “Let’s say the phone call never happened, shall we?” Clark said with a kind smile.

Clark emerged from the tiny kitchen with two mugs at hand. One had tea and the other black coffee. He handed the coffee to Bruce, who sat in the middle of the living room completely out of place. The billionaire gratefully took the proffered coffee but just set it down immediately on the coffee table before him. Here he was, finally, a little drunk and more than a little confused, still clad in his designer suit and shoes, in the middle of Clark’s secondhand and Ikea furniture designed apartment. Clark sat down on a mismatched ottoman to Bruce’s left. He also put down his mug of tea beside Bruce’s on the table, and leveled Bruce with a stern look. 

“So. What is this all about.”

“I... I already told you over the phone...”

“Let’s say the phone call never happened, shall we?” Clark said with a kind smile, and some of the tension left Bruce’s body. He slumped back into the sofa he sat on. “So, how about we go about this in a... uh... well, in a clear manner? And so, to start, why are you here, Bruce?”

Bruce had some time to think when Clark left him in the living room to prepare their drinks, but his thoughts had been racing a mile a minute and was all over the place, he still wasn’t prepared for the question. So he decided to answer truthfully, for once.

“For you.”

Clark nodded. “Yeah, I kinda got that. But I mean...”

“I’m here to get you back.” Bruce cut in, in the same emotionless voice, his face a tired mask.

That stopped Clark from what he was about to say, and he folded his hands together, clearly weighing his words before saying them. “Okay.” He said, carefully. “It’s been a while. Ten years. How come this came up now?”

“It’s not just now.” Bruce closed his eyes, whatever ungodly energy powering him through earlier in the night leaving him. He slumped further back into the sofa, which was secondhand but oh so comfortable. “I’ve been thinking about it. About you. Ever since. Ten years ago. When you left. Left me alone.”

“Hm, we seem to remember things differently, Bruce. You dumped me ten years ago.” Clark answered, voice still carefully neutral.

Bruce’s brows knitted in irritation. “No. After I ‘dumped’ you. When you said you won’t be answering my calls anymore.”

“Oh, you mean the post-breakup booty calls?”

Bruce opened his eyes to level a glare at Clark, who just smiled at him wanly. “Was that all it was to you?”

“It was clear that that was all it as for you. I just followed your lead. And then, one day, I couldn’t anymore. It hurt, to be able to hold you but not love you. So I did what was best for me. And I think, in hindsight, what was best for you as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Clark opened up his hands and gestured towards Bruce. “You said it yourself, when we broke up. You were set to inherit one of the biggest multinational companies in the world, and I’m just me. You’d be going back to Gotham, and I’d decided to stay here in Metropolis and work for The Daily Planet. How could that have worked?”

Bruce just continued to stare at Clark, who sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was curlier from bedhead. “It wouldn’t have. But, separately, our lives worked out. I’m a reporter for a newspaper I respect, and you’re you,” Clark gestured towards Bruce again. “A billionaire playboy philanthropist who is also somehow a single father.”

“And yet, we’re both alone. Why is that? If it worked out so well for the both of us?” Bruce drawled out from the comfort of the sofa, eyes half-lidded, still staring at Clark. 

Clark shrugged his shoulders, as if that answered the question. It elicited a bark of laughter from Bruce. “I guess things didn’t work out all the way through.” Clark said simply, a half smile on his face. 

“No, no they did not.”

They regarded each other for some time, Bruce increasingly getting more comfortable on the sofa, Clark perched on the edge of the ottoman with his elbows resting on his thighs, hands folded together again. Bruce was first to break the silence.

“It can work out now, if we wanted.”

“Really.” Clark couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his tone. 

“Yes. Really. As you are fond of pointing out, I’m a famously rich layabout. I can stay here in Metropolis if I wanted to- I have, what, no less than four hotels here.”

“You would?”

“Mm. I would.”

“And your company?”

“Lucius can handle the headquarters in Gotham as I manage our new ventures here in Metropolis for, oh, the foreseeable future.”

“Okay. But more importantly, your ward?”

Bruce crossed his arms and straightened up a bit at the mention of his ward. Clark shot him a sympathetic smile. 

“We can’t win them all, Bruce.”

The billionaire unfolded his arms and looked down, and then draped his arm on the back of the sofa as he sat back again. “The school year is about to end. I’m sure there are good prep schools here in Metropolis? Don’t you always write on and on about how important the educational institutions are in your beloved city? I’m sure there’s one that would suit Richard. And if not, homeschooling is always an option. I was homeschooled for a while myself. Alfred very much acquitted himself in that department.” He ended with a lazy smile. It was Clark’s turn to give a short laugh in response. 

“So you’ve thought about it.”

“I’ve thought of nothing else. These ten years past.”

Clark steepled his fingers in front of his face as he regarded Bruce again. Then he sighed again, and placed his hands behind him in support, as he leaned back. “I dunno Bruce. In hindsight, our relationship was very much one-sided.”

“I was a rich, spoiled jerk that you indulged far too often.”

“And now?”

“Still a rich, spoiled jerk, but one willing to change.”

“You’re shortchanging yourself a bit there Bruce. I’m sure Richard has changed you for the better.”

Bruce ducked his head to hide what he was sure was a blush. When it came to his ward, he was a soft touch. And Clark always seemed to see a good side of him he never saw reflect back to him in a mirror. 

“And what would happen after you conclude your business venture here in Metropolis?” Bruce raised his head again to look at Clark, who masked his concern with a friendly smile. “Would you break up with me again, and then keep dropping by every so often for some comfort? Because I don’t deserve that. And neither do you, nor Richard.” 

“You’ve considered Richard in your future scenarios...” Bruce said, voice trailing off, a bit incredulous.

“Of course. He’s your son. I can’t have a relationship with his father without having one with him as well.”

Before Clark knew it, Bruce was kneeling in front of him, hands reaching for one of Clark’s knees, a supplicant. “Would...” and Bruce coughed to shake the tremble from his voice. “Would you really... consider me again. Me and Richard?”

Bright blue eyes stared down steel grey ones, regarding, calculating, deciding. Clark straightened up and put a hand over Bruce’s. “It depends.”

“On what?” Bruce replied, unable to keep the hope out of his voice. It was rewarded with a sunny smile from Clark. 

“On how well you can make up for your disastrous date earlier.”

The relief poured out of Bruce in waves, and he laughed as well as Clark. They stayed like that for some time, until the laughter died out, and what remained were smiles. Bruce leaned forward and planted a kiss on the back of Clark’s hand, taking the reporter a little aback. 

“That was romantic.”

“I could be romantic if you wanted me to be.”

“Hm, that would be an interesting change of pace.”

“From what?”

“From being a rich, spoiled jerk who always got his way.” Clark replied, teasing. Bruce smiled up at him, and then bent down and kissed his hand again. He moved to hold Clark’s hands in his, and then in one fluid motion stood up and straddled Clark, who seemed to be pleasantly surprised.

“Do you think you can let me get my way just one more time?” Bruce asked, voice husky and thick with emotion and want all rolled together. Clark, face a mix of emotions, stayed silent for a while, and then leaned forward and caught Bruce’s lips in his. Bruce enthusiastically kissed back, ecstatic for after all these years dreaming of those same lips on his. Clark pulled away, and then came back to plant tiny kisses all along Bruce’s jaw up to his ears, where he whispered in a low voice, “Just this once.”

Bruce closed his eyes and smiled as he wound his arms around Clark’s shoulders and let the other catch his lips again in another deep kiss. After all these years, finally, he was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is it for this fic. Maybe just an epilogue of sorts after this chapter. Thank you thank you thank you so much for the kudos and the kind comments! It really helps with the writing, not gonna lie haha. But more than that, it heartens me to know people are enjoying my fics. Thank you again! And if you have a prompt you’d like for me to explore, don’t hesitate to say so in the comments or anyway you can get at me. Thank you for reading!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce woke up on unfamiliar sheets. The slight roughness hinted that it was not a bed in any of his penthouse suites. He opened his eyes to see a broad naked back, and then he remembered. He spent the night at Clark’s apartment.

Bruce woke up on unfamiliar sheets. The slight roughness hinted that it was not a bed in any of his penthouse suites. He opened his eyes to see a broad naked back, and then he remembered. He spent the night at Clark’s apartment. Well, by the end, as the sun rose and light slowly crept into Clark’s tiny apartment, they both fell asleep. Before that though, they were kind of busy. Bruce smiled as he remembered the rest of the night, and moved closer to the other person in the bed. He slid a hand around Clark’s middle and buried his face into the back of Clark’s neck. It woke the sleeping man, and soon Clark was turning around to meet Bruce.

“Mornin’.”

Bruce couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face as he watched Clark’s sleepy face wake up with the golden light of morning. 

“Good morning to you too.”

Wordlessly, Clark grabbed Bruce and pulled him towards him, then turned on his back, bring Bruce along so that the other was now on top. He placed tiny kisses along Bruce’s jaw as Bruce laughed soundlessly. The billionaire braced himself on either elbows and sought out the journalist’s lips and soon they were giving each other a thorough kiss. Bruce pulled back first, and he pushed up and positioned himself so that he was straddling Clark. There was an unmistakable hard bulge poking his ass, and Clark grabbed them and gave a squeeze.

“Sorry, I’m not...”

“It’s okay babe. We’ve got plenty of other times for that. But right now...” Clark ground up as a hand snaked towards the front of Bruce’s black boxers, where he had his own unmistakable hard bulge. “How about more of last night?” And Clark gave him such a charming dimpled smile that for a moment Bruce forgot how to breathe. 

They wasted no time getting naked, and both settled on their sides, facing each other, skin to skin, kissing fervently and hands frantically touching everywhere. Clark pulled back for a moment to open a drawer and took out a lube, which he generously poured on his palm and then slathered on their hard cocks. He started kissing Bruce again as he started a slow pump, both dicks in hand with a finger in between, making Bruce groan. Bruce put a palm on top and ground down on their cock heads, and that made them both groan. Soon Bruce took over giving them both a hand job, as Clark’s hand snaked down to cup Bruce’s balls and massage them, before moving on to his ass and kneading it. He kissed Bruce hard before slipping in between the cheeks, slowly trailing teasing circles towards his asshole, and then slipping a lubed finger ever so slowly inside. Bruce’s hand faltered, and Clark made encouraging noises, kissing him all over his face, and soon Bruce was back to pumping their dicks together, his movements getting more frantic as Clark lazily played with his asshole. When Clark gave him a dirty, openmouthed kiss as a finger steadily pushed in and out of his ass, Bruce couldn’t help but twist his hand so, and soon he was peaking, and he repeated Clark’s name like a prayer as he came. 

He vaguely heard Clark’s sweet nothings as he was maneuvered onto his back, his legs in the air. He felt the cold lube slathered in between his thighs and instinctively closed them together. Clark slapped him lightly in the ass and murmured, “Good boy” before anchoring both Bruce’s legs over one shoulder and without preamble pushed his cock in between Bruce’s closed, lubed thighs, making Bruce shiver. As Clark steadily fucked his thighs, Bruce reached up and held onto the rails of the headboard, knowing how it would look to Clark- his face kiss swollen and eyes heavy lidded, hair tousled, his muscles straining and his torso wet with lube and cum. Filthy words tumbled out of his mouth, goading and pleading and praising Clark, until the man’s hips stuttered and the movements picked up an urgency.

“Fuck, Bruce, coming!” Clark called out, his face lost to ecstasy. It made Bruce feel absolutely delicious. He answered in a low voice, “cum for me, Clark. Cover me with your thick, hot cum.” And Clark lost it, disentangling Bruce’s legs and frantically fucked his fist until he shot ropes of cum over Bruce’s belly and chest. When Clark’s breathing evened out, Bruce slowly ran a finger through the mess on his belly and raised it to his lips, and just as slowly licked the mess on his fingers. He saw Clark’s intense stare, and sure enough Clark’s cock was twitching. Bruce laughed, low and enticing. He made a mental note to call Alfred when he gets the chance to tell the older man that plans had changed, just as Clark lunged forward to capture his lips again. 

***

Bruce woke up on somewhat unfamiliar sheets. Only somewhat- he’d only been staying at their new house in the Metropolis suburbs for only a little over a week. Clark was wont to call it a mansion, but Bruce grew up in a twenty four bedroom manor, so the charming two story, six bedroom domicile Alfred had procured for them was but a house to Bruce. He stirred to look at the bedside clock, another charming thing when it wasn’t blaring an alarm that Clark had set, saw it was still before 10 am and therefore still an ungodly hour, groaned and settled back into the soft pillows. It lasted a few seconds before their bedroom door opened and in ran an excited Richard with a smiling Clark following. 

“Papa papa papa!” Richard excitedly called out as he scrambled to get up on the huge bed to get to his adoptive father. “Dad says we can go to the pool today!”

Bruce turned over and regarded his son with a befuddled look. “But we have a pool right here at home.”

Richard rolled his eyes as only a child could when they thought an adult was being especially slow. “But this one is a water park and it has all the slides and a lot of my classmates will be there please please please can we go can we go can we go?” The child pleaded breathlessly as both Bruce and Clark tried to hide their smiles. 

“Hm.” Bruce made a show of thinking it over for a few seconds, while Richard groaned out loud and flopped down on the bed face first. “Daaaaaaad, papa is being difficult!” Came the muffled tattle. 

“He is, isn’t he?” Clark said as he walked towards the bed, sat down and reached over and effortlessly picked up Richard and sat him down again. “Maybe he needs a little incentive.” Clark moved forward and bent over and gave Bruce a kiss on the cheek and then on the lips. “Please, may we go to the water park?”

“Is that all? That’s easy.” Richard said, now full of confidence. He crawled over to Bruce and gave his father a big smack on the cheeks. He batted his eyelashes and said, “please!”

Bruce laughed out loud and then regarded his son and his husband for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. But only after breakfast.”

“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, fist in the air. He crawled off the bed quickly and then at the door turned around to tell his parents. “I’m gonna wake up Jay and tell him we’re going to the water park!” And then he was gone, leaving a much amused Clark and and endeared Bruce in bed. A few seconds and Clark turned to Bruce with a different look on his face. 

“I think that gives us... oh, about 30-ish minutes.”

“You dog.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” Clark laughingly retorted in between small kisses.

“Yeah, I do.” Bruce breathlessly replied, and he caught Clark’s lips and kissed him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it for this fic. By the end, it turned all domestic and lovey dovey but, well, I’m a sap and prone to writing happy endings. Thanks for waiting and reading till the end, as well as leaving kudos and comments. It means a lot to me. If you’ve got a prompt you want me to explore, just go ahead and leave it in the comments and I’ll do my best to meet your expectations. Thanks again!


End file.
